Leather and Gold
by DiorDior
Summary: Bridget Tabris reflects on how her life is changing, and how she feels about a certain Antivan assassin whom she recently spared from death. In her new role as one of the only Ferelden Grey Wardens left, she learns how to juggle her responsibilities, overcome her past, and control her desires. All characters property of Bioware.
1. Nothing More Than You Are Willing To Giv

Mirrors were expensive and hard to come by, and as I gazed into ours I tried to accept the things I was privileged to have that the majority of the Alienage would never see. We did, of course, keep it hidden to prevent it from being stolen, but today I examined my reflection and tried to calm my nerves before giving my life away to a man I had never met. At least, that was how I saw it. He could be the gentlest, kindest elf in the world, and handsome to boot (which, I had to admit after seeing him, he was), but that would never take away the feeling that I was being forced to give up myself, and to walk another's path. I did not abhor marriage, or the idea of me being married, but I felt very young as I looked in the mirror, although my reflection told me that I was a beautiful woman. Shianni had dusted black powder around my eyes to bring out the amber hiding behind light brown irises, and rouged my lips with a brick-red pigment, attempting to showcase their plumpness. My skin had almost always been a deep tan, partially due to my heritage and partially to the sun beating down in the alienage day after day. While humans would certainly mock elves for their dark skin, unable to prevent the tan, I did not mind it, and found that the wedding clothes given to me looked even whiter and more beautiful in contrast to my tawny breast. My hair was braided and twisted to reveal my slender, pointed ears and cheekbones. Papa had always said my hair was the colour of champagne, like my Mama, and that made me proud and sad at the same time. I wondered, would I ever try champagne?

The wedding clothes hugged my body and I wore them proudly; they were passed down through three generations and barely precious stones glinted along the hemlines. I was never going to be ready to hand over my future to someone, but at least I looked the part. And as I believed, that was mostly what mattered.

I walked towards the raised wooden platform where the woman from the Chantry waited to give us the Maker's blessing and perform the union. I disliked the Maker. Andraste, Andraste I did indeed believe in and pray to, but the Maker I had little faith in. Was it not ironic that the Maker's desire for Andraste led to her downfall, that the man she was married to was her death? Nelaros was certainly not Maferath, and I knew I could become fond of him, but this was not my desire, not yet. Was love too much to hope for? Would I ever know it?

Soris looked worse off than me, though he did indeed cut a handsome figure in his own wedding clothes. I flashed him a sympathetic smile as I climbed the steps. I was the oldest out of the trio that was myself, Soris, and Shianni, and felt it my duty to lead, set an example, and take care of us. In a way, I think that extended throughout the Alienage, and I could feel the happiness of the onlookers as they expressed their good wishes to me, without malice, hoping for the best for me, a girl with a bright future. We had hidden some of my lineage, the skills Mama had taught me and my inclination to rogueish behaviour, from Nelaros, but he would learn soon enough.

I turned to my betrothed, waiting to say words the ceremony dictated for us, when suddenly the sky darkened. Clouds came from nowhere, and rained down upon us. But it was not rain. Bright red dots bloomed and spread along my pristine white top, and we were all showered in blood. My heart raced, and as I stared, Nelaros' throat slit of its own accord, and hot, thick blood gushed down his front. I screamed and the tears that fell down my face were also bloody. I dropped down and grabbed Nelaros, but he was dead. Suddenly, I felt someone grasping my bare, bloody shoulders and turned to face them, knowing that it would be Vaughan. Screaming and reaching for a blade that would normally be there, I wrenched my body.

But then I woke up.

Alistair said that Grey Wardens had nightmares. Indeed, I had had some. But my nightmares were not always demons, dragons and darkspawn. The worst ones were my past, my failures, my family and, worst of all, my doomed wedding day. Real tears streaked my face and I rubbed my eyes and sat up. I drank water from my flask and walked to the fire.

"Nightmare?" Alistair asked. I nodded, and he did not pry, Andraste bless him. He was a kind man, albeit a bit unserious, but I enjoyed his company and found comfort in his friendship and our common bond, being the last of the Ferelden Wardens.

"Should we wake the others, and continue on to the Circle?"

"No," I said, "let them continue sleeping." The sky was still starry and there was likely another hour or two until dawn. We had to be on our toes for sure, but I was not in a hurry to leave quite yet. Alistair was all the company I needed for now; I was not ready for Morrigan's abrasiveness so soon after my nightmare. My hound, Declan, wandered over to us and I rested against him, closing my eyes and letting the heat of the fire wash over me. It burned on the ring I wore on my finger, the wedding band Nelaros had crafted for me so finely, the ring I had kept out of respect and remembrance, my only physical tie to my old life, besides my mother's boots.

* * *

Wynne was comforting, motherly, and wise, from what I could tell. She had chosen to join us after that horror at the Circle Tower, and I was happy to have her. I had long conversations with her at camp, and she had no prejudice against elves, from what I could tell. She helped me adjust to the idea of being a Warden, and though it was still hard, I thanked her for it.

"How did you become a Grey Warden, Bridget?" she asked me.

When I explained to her the truth, knowing that with her, it was safe to do so, she apologized.

"Please don't apologize, I wouldn't have shared if I did not wish to," I said. "I...Nelaros was my betrothed but it was an arranged marriage, I had never met him prior. He was, of course, deserving of a much better life but I am not emotionally bound to him. My feelings are more complex. I am angry, hurt, and I want justice I know I will likely never get. I don't think being a Grey Warden will help me find peace with my past but at the very least, I am not under the thumb of sadistic and unchecked nobles like Vaughan anymore, and for that I am thankful. With that, I can try to move on."

pWynne smiled and we talked some more, about me, about her, about the Circles and the Wardens, and no nightmares came when I went to sleep that night. I rested, steeling my mind for the long trip to the Frostbacks we would set out on the next morning.

* * *

Something was off about the woman. I couldn't say what, but my Warden senses tingled and I had no time to object before she hustled towards a caravan. With nary a warning, we were ambushed and fighting for our lives against a group of rogues and mages that fought ferociously. There was an elf in particular, that was giving me an especially hard time and it was hard to make anything out in the flurry of daggers and limbs as we danced a deadly tango. When the rest of the group was dead, he was the last, groaning on the ground and clutching his chest.

"I see you haven't killed me yet."

Adrenaline rushed through my body and I could feel the tension from my companions as they waited for me to make a decision, no doubt assuming I would send him to a quick death. But I was curious and on edge, this man was clearly after us specifically, not just unlucky travellers on the road.

"I have some questions," I said without intonation.

Surprisingly, he was immediately forthright, which I wasn't sure should heighten or lower my suspicion. I listened cautiously.

"My name is Zevran," he had a thick accent I had never heard and tried to place, focusing carefully to avoid misunderstanding. "I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any remaining Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly."

So he was Antivan. I was no cartographer, but I knew that was a long way away. An Antivan Crow? The name sounded familiar. When I asked about them, Leliana explained.

"Someone went to great expense to hire this man," she concluded.

"Back where I come from, we're rather infamous."

Though I tried to curb my cockiness, I mocked the man.

"Not for being good assassins, I see."

Zevran explained his contract and we were unsurprised to discover Loghain was behind it. Disappointed, however. Even after Ostagar's events I still wouldn't have expected Loghain to stoop down to hiring assassins. But what advantage would this man have of making up such a detail? There was clearly a lot about Loghain we did not know. It was also enough to know this man was not loyal to him. But was he loyal to anyone? I did not doubt he was an assassin, but I wasn't sure how they operated in loyalty. I meant to find out.

"And now, that you've failed that service, what happens?" I asked him.

"Well," Zevran answered, "I wasn't intended to fail. If I had succeeded I would have returned home and the Crows would have informed your Loghain of the results...if he didn't already know. If I failed, I would be dead." He observed himself and smirked. "Or, I should be, at least as far as the Crows are concerned. No need to see Loghain then."

No wonder he answered my questions. As far as he could tell, he was dead either way, from his employers back home, or from my hand. I was the mistress of his fate now, as it were. Somehow, the thought was thrilling but also weighed heavy.

He continued, echoing my thoughts.

"Although the chances of succeeding at this point seem a bit slim, don't they?" He laughed, the eternal optimist it seemed; against myself, I found it a bit endearing. "No, I don't suppose you'd find that funny, would you?"

At least Loghain had had to pay a handsome sum to try and assassinate us. I think I would have been a bit hurt if we weren't worth a large amount. Morbid, maybe, but it puffed my chest a bit and I think if I were in this man's shoes, in his line of work, I would have accepted it. Then again though, considering the legends surrounding Grey Wardens maybe not. This man had either never heard of us, was insane, or had a death wish. Because though he clearly had skill, he was not good enough to be that cocky. None of these options sounded like a good life to me, and when he mentioned he wasn't even the one being paid, I wondered why he did it at all.

"Well, aside from a distinct lack of ambition I suppose it's because I wasn't given much of a choice. The Crows bought me young. I was a bargain, too, or so I'm led to believe."

He could have been bluffing. Trying to garner my sympathy, spare his life. But he did not put on any airs, there was no self-pity. I believed him. And it resonated with me. No choice, leading a life cut out for you. I had never been sold to an assassin's guild but, the dowry my father paid had never sat well with me, as if spouses were to be bought and sold.

Again he seemed to read my mind.

"But don't let my sad story influence you. The Crows aren't so bad. They keep one well supplied: wine, women, men. Whatever you happen to fancy."

It sounded like the lie one tells themselves after they have accepted their lot in life. I didn't doubt his words, I doubted how much they compensated for what he was forced to do.

"Though the whole severance package is garbage, let me tell you. If you were considering joining, I'd really think twice about it." I had to fight to keep my face neutral, and cleared my throat to stifle a giggle. Apparently the face of death had a habit of bringing out the comedian in people. The blight really did bring people together.

"Thanks, I'll take that under advisement," I said, raising an eyebrow and barely keeping my lips from simply twitching.

"I am curious, I can see you don't have much to lose," I said, "but why are you telling me all this?"

He chuckled. "Why not? I wasn't paid for silence. Loyalty is an interesting concept."

He proposed to join me, to serve me. I was not shocked at the offer, but I was shocked that my instincts told me to accept. Andraste guide me, I prayed. He explained in detail why he would not turn on me, or how he would be useful, but he needn't have bothered. I already had made up my mind and continued to question him for my companions' benefit. I doubt they would be so easily appeased. But I believed him, even if his lavish attempts to flatter our looks fell on flat ears. I suppressed a snort when he called me a "sex goddess"; surely this man was joking?

"Very well, you may join us." I said. Everyone was shocked, least of all Zevran, judging from his face. It took some persuading to convince them it was not a terrible idea. I helped Zevran off the ground and we healed his wounds. During the bustle I had not even noticed how handsome he was. Perhaps that is why he was purchased to join the Crows, surely good looks helped an assassin; judging from his many comments, he relied on that charm and allure and flirtation to do his job. I would have been wary, but I didn't allow him to join because he thought I was pretty. He would be useful. And I saw something in him that deserved saving.

Now who was the eternal optimist?

* * *

I would be lying to say I was not attracted to our Antivan companion. His voice alone threw my head into a tizzy. He was a thing of beauty, smooth and swarthy skin covering taut muscle. Even his tattoos had an allure. I had not seen many with tattoos in my lifetime, though I had heard that the Dalish covered themselves in them to honour the Elven gods. Were there Dalish in Antiva? I would ask, but it seemed rude. Sometimes in between my nightmares I dreamed of his face, unbidden but welcome, staring at me with golden eyes full of intent while a devilish smile played on his enticing lips, begging to be kissed. I would wake and my stomach was filled with butterflies, heart racing. During the day, I kept a cool demeanor and ignored his flirtations; it wouldn't do to let the assassin win me over, in case it was all part of a grander scheme.

Truthfully, as well, I was not sure what stuff I was made of in that department. Though I was almost in my 20th year, I had never given myself to anyone yet. I simply had never truly been interested, I think, having known everyone in the Alienage my entire life and my closest friends being my cousins. Could I be flirtatious and desirable? Certainly, but what was the point? Especially if my life was meant to be handed over to an arranged husband anyway. I thought about it, and realized that even if I was signed into this new life, I had options. I could love or pursue whomever I wished, if I had the time. The blight did indeed take precedence. But now, if I could find some pleasure in the companionship of another, was this not precisely the time to do so? If I would die young, and if I survived this blight, die gruesomely with a body succumbed to the taint, was it not my right to at least enjoy this life to the fullest when I could?

I had wanted romance. I truly still did. I had always known I would have a family, as a duty. I would have children for my father to spoil and to pass on what my own mother taught me. But now that was almost certainly taken away. There was no romantic future, no family future for a Warden. Maybe throwing myself into the strong arms of a sexy assassin was not the worst decision in the world, if it was my own and covered up the emptiness.

And so I did not deny his flirtations, did not brush them off, and combated them with my own. Wynne, concerned, mentioned it once but I explained myself, and though she did not seem to approve necessarily, it seemed as though she found something in my words that she identified with. I knew that would not be the last of it, but I would have this small bit of selfishness. Thedas was relying on us, so Andraste help me, I would have some modicum of reprieve. The only inconvenience was the nagging in the back of my mind, telling me I wanted more.

I shoved it away and we all pressed on.

* * *

I liked to think that we were safe in camp, because anyone passing by could smell Oghren from a mile away. His pungency was as likely to keep away intruders as anything else. No one in their right mind would want to get any closer to his unique aroma of ale, sweat, and vomit. He smelled so much like alcohol, and was more often than not drunk, so much so that I worried if he walked too near the fire he would simply set ablaze. He was, without a doubt, disgusting, and I had to wonder how on earth he had ever secured a wife. Then I remembered that Branka was, indeed, insane. I did not want to think any more of it.

Maybe he was not always so drunk. Losing your wife, even if she was insane and in some sort of twisted relationship with you, must be hard. Simply losing a man I was betrothed to and had just met was hard enough. I tried to have some compassion for him as he mistook me for Hespith before passing out. Killing Branka had unfortunately been necessary. As helpful as golems would be, the Anvil had to be destroyed. I would sacrifice much, but I would not force others to make that sacrifice. And as insane as Branka and ruthless as Bhelen were, I did not trust them with that kind of power either. So the sacrifice was the Anvil itself. I knew Zevran disapproved some, but I remained firm, asking him if he would be the first to be turned into a golem. The decision weighed heavy, but not as heavy as the lives I know would be forced to endure the agony of the molten lyrium as their lives were ripped away. Besides, if we all survived this, what would happen to the golems, what would the dwarves do with this power? It was simply too risky. If the paragon Caridin himself opposed it, that was a good indication for me. And Shayle was grateful. I was surprised to see how much she warmed up to me, in her own stony way. I think it was due to my everlasting sarcasm.

I was entirely tired of the Deep Roads, but I had promised her after Bhelen's coronation that we would search for Cadash Thaig, and try to decipher her past. There was no point in leaving and coming back and I did not want to force her to leave us, so we set up camp under the big starry sky once more and prepared ourselves to journey once more underground.

I wandered away from the haze surrounding Oghren's stout, unconscious form and found Zevran in the camp, close to where Declan was digging in the dirt. Away from the dwarf, I was actually able to breathe in fresh air.

Zevran had, over time, opened up to me. He even taught me assassin skills and was genuinely impressed with how quickly I excelled. He detailed the uses of poison, and showed me how to make deadly concoctions to coat my blades, my arrows, and to store in flasks I could throw at my enemies, leaving them in a noxious cloud before picking them off. Our conversations were, to say the least, littered throughout with his trademark innuendoes and I would indulge them. To my chagrin, I was nervous sometimes, wondering if I would actually take the plunge to seek him out for services he so casually offered to others. It was quite amusing to see Leliana turn him down and berate him. I cursed myself for seeking his attention, falling prey to these lines, and kept my head above it all, aloof and cool. I hadn't decided yet if I was just being a fool and falling for his charm, or seeking him of my own volition and attraction. Sometimes his brazen lines actually turned me away. I did want to be chased, I supposed, even if I didn't want romance.

The reason, however, I was not completely turned off was our conversations. Even just listening to him idly revealed a great deal of intelligence and wit, and he seemed to know much about the world. I enjoyed these conversations, and listened intently while he told me of Antiva, or about his jobs for the Crows. Tonight it seemed that, after all the commotion in the Deep Roads, he was more wistful than usual about his homeland.

"I miss the leather the most," he said. I looked at him curiously, but understood when he explained. He expressed his regret when he mentioned the boots.

"Before I left, I was tempted to spend what little coin I possessed on leather boots I spotted in a store window. Finest Antivan leather, perfect craftsmanship...Ah but I was a fool to leave them."

I thought of my own mother's boots, I wore them every day kept the supple leather in good shape to prevent them from falling into disrepair. His own love of leather and regret of not purchasing the boots resonated with me. It made him more real to me than anything he had said yet, and I saw someone, something underneath, that related to me, and that I wanted.

"One simply never knows what is to come next," he continued. How could I have suspected I would end up defeated by a beautiful Grey Warden, a woman who then spares my life? I could not."

There was sincerity there, not just empty flattery and I for once hoped, beyond my own rationality, that something more was there, for me and for me alone. That I was special. I could almost believe it.

"'Beautiful', is it?"

"I say you are beautiful because it is true. Should I not?"

My heart sank slightly, wondering if it was just his standard observation, but I would not sink.

"No, by all means."

"And glad I am to hear it." His voice was warm and I believed.

But something ugly reared its head and I was unable to stop myself before asking, colour rising to my cheeks.

"You must have quite a history." I tried to hide my nervousness, keep the cool facade. "With women, I mean."

He seemed a bit surprised and chuckled, asking if I really wanted to know. I would not let him see the embarrassment.

"I asked, didn't I?"

I was worried I would be horrified, or disgusted, or simply angry, because I knew that he was no innocent virgin. But there was no bravado, just explanation of his life, his job, his duty. He found pleasure in his work because that made it worthwhile. I couldn't blame him. I was locked into a life I could not escape, would it be better of me to bemoan it, or live it to the fullest. I found I almost pitied him. Surely, he had as little experience of romance as I. I certainly was not as experienced as him, or had even had that experience, but I did not feel at a loss for it. If anything, I thought that perhaps he was the one who was at a loss, though I could not explain why.

"It...it sounds like you have been through a lot." I said to him.

"Ahh, it's just old scars and nothing more which you see. Ignore them as I do, and perhaps they'll go away."

Well, that seemed unhealthy but now I understood. I could tell he was brushing it all off, his old life, regrets and memories. Weren't we all? Wasn't I? I held nothing against him and was happy I had asked my question, even if the result was unexpected.

"Enough of the past," he said. "It is what lies ahead that is worthwhile, no?"

It certainly was. I had decided. I had decided that if I were to give into my desires it was alright. That sneaking pleasure in amongst the pain was acceptable and necessary. Maybe it would be wrong to do so with him, but my instincts told me that he was actually the best person to choose. He understood. He encouraged it. I didn't like to think that I would use someone, but if we both complied was that really being used? Or was it just making the most of our situation, of giving into our natures and finding that pleasure in the pain. As long as one of us didn't end up breaking our necks afterwards, anyways.

Before I could give myself the option to turn away and run from my feelings, I plunged into my next question.

"I...I wanted to ask something personal, Zevran."

He was intrigued.

Too late to go back now, I asked, "Would you care to join me in my tent?"

He almost looked surprised, as though I all along had also just been skillfully flirting with no desire for any consequence, which was not entirely untrue, up until recently. Maybe after all our talking now, he just thought I was desperate, or pitiful, or had really simply been full of flattery and had no desire to join me anywhere.

We batted euphemisms back and forth and I tried my best to ensure he knew I really meant it, before sauntering towards my tent. I almost didn't expect him to follow me but he trotted after me two seconds later.

No one else had apparently heard our conversation and for the most part, were either in their own tents or paid us no heed, focused on some activity or other. My tent was pitched away from the group, beside a small fire, and I had a cluster of glowstones inside that gave off as much or little light as I desired.

His eyes had changed and I did not recognize the light in them as he helped me remove my leather. Somehow, he managed to smell good. Not like sweat, or blood, but as though he had taken a perfumed bath. Truthfully, I imagined that is what he did normally, come to think of it. Without ceremony he removed his clothing, down to his smallclothes, and moved towards me to help me do the same. His body was a marvel uncovered. The tattoos on his face were replicated over his body, curving along his shoulder blades, accentuating his muscle in enticing patterns. His hair was an ashen colour in the glowstone light, and was loose from its normal braid. His face, attractive enough on its own, took on a new quality as he inched towards me, and I desired it.

But as my armour fell and I realized what was happening, I felt fear and uncertainty. Lust mingled with hesitance and I bit it down, willing myself to accept this, and accept that I wanted this. I did, I knew I did, something just didn't seem right.

I must have been tense.

"Is something wrong?" Zevran asked.

"I need to confess that...Zevran I have never been with anything before, the Alienage did not exactly provide me with a host of lovers." I think a part of me wished this would make him turn away, laugh and ridicule me and leave me to my uncertainty.

Instead, he looked at me with tenderness and understanding.

"My lady, I am honoured then that you have asked me to share in this moment with you. Perhaps I can make this easier for you, then." Without warning and before I could object, he moved down my naked form and placed his lips between my legs.

The sensation was warm where I was cold and took my breath away, both for the unexpectedness and for the sensation. I tried to revel in it as he applied his tongue, his lips and even his dexterous fingers. I knew he was skillful, as even though my mind protested, I involuntarily moved my hips in and out of his face. But it was not enough, and my mind won out. It would not let me sink into this, not like this. Something was wrong and my mind denied my body its desire.

Unexpectedly, tears dropped from my eyes and I could not continue, I pulled away. Surprised, Zevran looked up and his eyes widened upon seeing the tears.

"Bridget, have...what is wrong? Did I do something to offend?"

"Zevran, I am sorry, I thought, I was ready, I wanted...I want you but, my mind will not let me, I am so sorry."

"Do not apologize," Zevran said, "I understand that to some it is difficult to lose their virginity."

Was it that? I don't think I was afraid, I think that I wanted more than this. I wanted someone to want me, be worthy of me. I didn't know if he was worthy. I think that was it. I was confused. My carefully constructed facade crumbled. I could no longer play the part of a temptress, lord my minxy ways over him. I must look ridiculous, pitiful and surely, not the Warden and leader I had to be. I hated myself. This could not go on.

"I have some Antivan brandy with me, excellent stuff. Perhaps some would help you?"

pNo, never. I did not want to be under the influence of anything. I denied his request, saying Oghren was the only one in the camp who needed the help of alcohol to bed a suitor and I had no intention of following his example, to which Zevran laughed heartily.

I cleared my throat.

"I apologize for making you come here."

"Now now, you don't have to apologize for something that never happened."

It took me a moment to get the joke, and I burst out laughing. I could salvage this, retain my dignity, and resume my authority. He did not own me nor did he want to.

"Perhaps, we can continue this conversation another time," I said, "when I am...more comfortable. That is, if I have not irreparably offended you."

He smiled and donned his leathers.

"Certainly, my lady. I do, after all, enjoy a bit of a chase."

He kissed my hand and gracefully exited my tent, with none of the camp the wiser.

* * *

Our banter continued as before, thank Andraste. Zevran never intimated anything had ever changed, and if anything, seemed to redouble his efforts on me, which Leliana was eternally grateful for.

It had been weeks after my embarrassing attempt at seduction, and we were on our way to Redcliffe for the first time when I stopped to talk to him at camp. He asked me, surprisingly, about poetry.

"I grew up in an Alienage, sadly I know next to nothing about poetry, but I think that if I heard a good poem, I would know."

He chuckled and apologized before reciting a few lines of something awful. Truly, whoever came up with it wasn't skilled, but as he spoke he moved in close to me, his breath hot on my ear, fingers grazing my arms. I barely acknowledged the words, as terrible as they were, and let my heart race at his closeness.

"What is that, sex poetry?"

"So she claimed. She was trying to seduce me, you see, and somehow thought that this would actually convince me to spare her." Unfortunate woman, I think I would be only more inspired to kill someone after that.

"And so, you try to seduce me with it?" I asked, laughing.

"Would it work?" he asked devilishly.

Though the poem was awful, and his story not exactly laudable, I had to admit that it might. Or at least, him delivering any lines, regardless of how inane they were, in such a way would work.

"I will have to keep that in mind." He regarded my face, and frowned slightly.

"I had thought that you might be cheered up by some naughty poetry." He brushed a stray hair away and came close again to my face, looking into my eyes. I could not look away.

"You simply look so...unhappy. Such an unflattering expression for such a lovely face."

I tried to be coy, but his usual teasing tone was nowhere to be found behind the words, and I wanted to take them to heart.

"Do you truly think I am lovely?" I asked, eyes wide. I was being vulnerable and potentially stupid but I didn't care anymore, I needed to know.

He tried to maintain an air of aloofness but there was tenderness under his words.

"Who wouldn't? You're the kind of woman that stokes the lust in men and other women alike." He paused before continuing, more quietly, "Surely you know this, and are playing with me."

"I…" something stirred in me and I found my boldness. "I would never toy," I said with a wink, "but it is fun to play with you." I moved in closer and he grinned, laughing.

"You look so tired, my dear. It is all this constant walking and fighting. I think I know what you need."

"A horse?" I wanted to keep the conversation light, I didn't want him to walk away.

He laughed and suggested something more immediate.

"Zevran, I don't know about this…" my doubt plagued me, no matter how much I wanted to say yes.

"What is there to fear, my Grey Warden? You deserve a little fun, do you not? Are you still nervous? Because I think that, now that I know I need to make this something more special to you, that I will more than make up for your concerns with the techniques I have picked up over the years. But," he said this both coyly and, I knew, truthfulness, "This need be no complex thing. You are a beautiful and fascinating woman. I am… well, I am who I am. Is there any reason not to enjoy each others' company? If you are not of a mind, however, it is no trag-"

"No!" I blurted out, making up my mind. I lowered my voice to avoid drawing attention from anyone nearby. "No, I am...definitely of a mind." I would not lose this chance again.

"Then why are we still talking?" Zevran chuckled.

Instead of walking to my tent we walked to his, which he had pitched a bit farther from the fire than usual. Inside, he had filled it with soft cushions and blankets that I wondered where he had obtained them.

There was no rush for my clothing, or for his. He actually started with a massage, removing my armour slowly to knead the muscles with warm and rough fingers. Again I breathed in his scent, smoky, musky and layered with clove and leather. While he massaged I relaxed and lost myself in the pressing of his fingers. And he hummed in his thick, throaty way. Eventually, I was entirely undressed but he still continued the massage, relaxing any and all tension. Occasionally he removed a piece of his own armour, or so it seemed from the sound, as I never really looked behind me, but it was gradual and I barely noticed. It did not cause me to panic. Eventually, after some time and when my body was warm, relaxed, and all my muscles were at ease, he massaged my neck once again, before taking it in one hand on the right side, and peppering some kisses along the left side, nibbling my ears.

"You, Bridget Tabris," he said, low and soft and rumbling in his chest pressed behind my back, "Are so incredibly beautiful." He let my hair down and ran his fingers through it, sending tingles down my spine. I felt my nipples stiffen and eased against his back. I was not afraid this time, and my mind did not race, I simply wanted him to continue, to lose myself in him and his hands. I sighed softly and he rightly took it as encouragement.

I immediately felt him stiffen at the base of my spine, and he chuckled.

"You feel these things you do to me? Wicked, wicked."

I was speechless, tongue tied, but suddenly felt all of the Sex Goddess he claimed me to be, capable of causing a man to seek me out, pursue me, desire me. Of being worth it when there were a sea of other beautiful women with more experience and less qualms than me. I felt chosen and in charge; truly, even if he was seeking to pleasure me, I knew I was in charge. This was what I wanted.

"I do not think I know what you mean, what are these things I do to you? Perhaps you should show me. You say a lot of women are beautiful, Zevran, but why should I believe you? You'll have to use more than just some words, I think." I said, and surprised myself with the seductive edge I cut into the tease, making it believable.

He hardened even further, judging from the feeling at the small of my back and moaned in a lower rumble into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. I looked down to see one hand exploring my left breast, teasing it, while the other extended between my legs where I was hot, and wet. The tattoos on his forearms rippled with his muscles when he flexed his fingers and moved them. Involuntarily, I gasped when his right hand found my wetness, instantly responding to the sensation. I arched my back which coincidentally provided him more access, which he took. My neck rested against his shoulder and he sucked on my earlobe.

I'm not sure how long this continued, because I became utterly lost in it. Nothing else existed and when he suddenly stopped I cried out, shocked, and looked at him.

"My lady, are you ready?"

"Yes, yes please," I choked out.

The glowstones in the tent darkened ever so slightly and he shifted on his set of soft cushions, pulling me towards his form and lowering me onto him with so fluid a motion I hardly realized it was happening.

A sound I can only describe as strangled erupted from me as he entered into me from underneath me. I did not see him but it didn't matter as I felt all of him fill and stretch the slippery crevasse between my legs. I felt on fire, and goosebumps covered my skin. I wasn't sure entirely what to do but instinct appeared to kick in and I rocked back and forth on him. I could tell he had begun to angle himself, and whatever he was doing, it was causing me to rub my most sensitive spot against his burning hot flesh. Oblivous to whatever might be outside, I moaned and gasped and closed my eyes. Losing myself to the rhythm of our bodies I could do nothing but focus on that point of pleasure, feeling it grow and grow until it was everything when suddenly it could grow no more and burst, radiating electricity throughout my body.

I thought perhaps I might scream but instead a low, soft and helpless moan escaped through my lips.

"Mmm," was all I heard from Zevran before he switched our positions and brought himself over me, lifting my legs and switching the steady rhythm we had kept to a heavier pounding, that was quickly picking up speed. Barely over my own orgasm (for I am sure that it was nothing other than that), I now began to raise my voice as each pound sent new and stronger sensations throughout me. Before I could actually reach a shriek though, he brought his mouth down upon me and kissed me fiercely, our tongues entwining while his thrusting into me reached its maximum pace. He lifted his face from mine and looked into my eyes, not stopping. They burned and I tried to pull his lips to mine again but he refused and just grinned at me. I could do nothing but meet his gaze, thinking that I was going to burst, wanting him utterly, mind body and spirit, aching for him until I felt him let himself go, exploding into me and filling me. I closed my eyes and mimicked his rumbly "Mmmm."

pSatisfied, he allowed himself now to be pulled into another kiss, and we kissed for a moment before untangling ourselves. He had a bowl of scented water that he dipped a cloth into before tenderly wiping the sweat off of my body, kissing parts as he traveled.

He teased me, saying this had all been inevitable since my refusal to kill him.

"You're practically a public menace," I said, chuckling. "But…what now?" I asked him.

He paused and tensed.

"Allow me to make it simple for you, my beautiful lady, what comes next is entirely up to you. I shall ask nothing more of you than you are willing to give."

Up to me, yes, it was I could see. He did not wish to control or force me. But did he want something? I refused to bring up romance or love-I doubted he was the type. I still wanted to learn more about him, to uncover the layers. If I was going to love, to fall in love, that had to be earned on both sides. And was he worthy of that? What was I willing to give? I wondered if there was a hidden meaning to his words and thought how silly I was being, given that he was an assassin. I doubted he had never said anything in his entire career that didn't have a double meaning.

I was content with that for now, content with this closeness, this calmness and relaxation. If this is what he desired for now, I was certainly willing to give that, and to receive.

"That sounds fine by me." I said.


	2. House of Worship

Zevran had been more than willing to let me stay in his tent for the remainder of the night, and sleep peacefully, but I didn't. As tempting as it was, I wanted to be alone, and had slunk back to my tent, thankful the camp was quiet and everyone was asleep. In the morning I removed the wedding ring that Nelaros had smithed for me. He was clearly skilled; the band was smooth and the gold shone brightly. It was both delicate and strong and there were no scratches or flaws in the metal. When Bodahn and his son awakened, I purchased a delicate golden chain from the dwarf, and slipped the ring onto it. I fastened it around my neck, adding to the protective amulet that was already there. The ring felt warm and comforting against my chest, and I would use it in the coming months to remind myself that ordinary people were good, brave, and could do extraordinary things just as much as any hero. Nelaros sacrificed himself for me, and I was in his debt; I would not be here today if it were not for him. Indebted as I was, however, my life was completely different now, and I felt no obligation any more to wear the ring on my hand. It was time for me pay his sacrifice forward instead, and move on from that life: to become the Grey Warden I had to be for Ferelden, and for myself.

* * *

Our camp was about a mile away from Redcliffe, and shortly after dismantling our tents and staunching any hot coals we set out. The sun was not yet high in the sky when we reached the village. Even so, the brisk pace we kept had caused me to sweat, and I longed to remove my armour and itch my sweating skin. Pausing at a small stream, we drank and planned our next move before entering Redcliffe itself. I took the opportunity to rearrange my gear and enjoy the gentle breeze.

Alistair called me over near a small hut, away from the group, intending to speak with me. I noticed a man on the bridge, observing us from a distance. Alistair looked anxious.

"Is something wrong Alistair?" I asked him, while keeping an eye on the stranger.

"I probably should have told you this earlier," he half-mumbled, and I assumed something uncomfortable was about to come up.  
"Since we are about to go into Redcliffe, and see the Arl and all that, it would probably be a good time for me to let you know a little bit about my past. You see…."

I was not prepared for the news he delivered, however. Were it not Alistair, and were the circumstances different, I probably would have thought him a liar. As it was I was shocked by his revelation. He explained that he was the bastard son of King Maric, that he was technically royalty, and coincidentally he was now the only one of that bloodline that was alive, unless the King had a host of children running amok that the general populace didn't know existed.

"So...you're not just a bastard, but a royal bastard, eh?" I grinned and tried to make light of the situation. I could see the position he was in was not something he was particularly proud of, and if I was too serious or harsh I doubted he would respond well.

He laughed.

"I would have told you, but...it never really meant anything to me. I was inconvenient-a possible threat to Cailan's rule. So, they kept me secret." He wrung his hands but he tried to maintain eye contact, letting me know he was truthful. "I've never talked to anyone about it, who didn't already know. Everyone who did know either resented me for it, or they coddled me," he continued, "even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it; I didn't want you to know, for as long as… as long as I possible. I'm sorry."

I processed the information. I was shocked and yes, a bit hurt that such a big secret was kept from me. Over the time we spent together, I felt that Alistair and I were becoming true friends. But I tried to understand. I could well imagine the treatment the bastard of a King got, maybe similar even to my own treatment-spite, resentment and cruelty. Who knows how he would have imagined I would treat him, had I known from the start. He clearly wanted to be normal, to just be a Grey Warden, to just be Alistair. I remembered how frustrated he was when Duncan assigned us to lighting the beacon for Loghain, instead of joining in the fray; suddenly that decision made a lot more sense. And though he protested to me that he had no illusions of gaining the throne, I doubted that meant anything now. Loghain, if he knew this secret, would surely see him as a threat.

"I think I understand, Alistair," I said to him, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "However, I don't know if Loghain will see things quite the same as you do. Even if the Arl were to take the throne...supposing he could, with his health, you are still probably considered a threat."

He knew I was right, but simply said, "I don't even want to think of this right now; let's just find the Arl."

"That sounds like a good idea...my prince" I ended in a teasing pitch, and batted my eyelashes furiously at him. He let out a loud laugh and groaned.

"I'll never live this down, will I?" he asked.

"Absolutely not," I said, and gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek. From behind us, someone cleared their throat and we turned around to see Zevran and Leliana. Zevran pointed towards the man who was still standing on the bridge, and suggested we continue.

"Alistair," I said in a low voice, "You will have to tell the rest of the group later. It is dangerous for this to be kept a secret, with everything that is going on." He nodded and I turned back to the rest of my companions, motioning for them to follow.

The man on the bridge turned out to be named Tomas, and he was both relieved and nervous to see us. He explained to us that undead had been attacking the village at night, and most of the Knights were gone in search of the Urn. He was forlorn that no one outside of the village had any idea of the threat posed from within the castle. Shocked, we immediately followed him into Redcliffe. We left the rest of the group behind, however, as I was still wary that anything could be a trap at this point. As much as Alistair trusted the Arl, after what he had just told me, I wasn't going to take any chances that Loghain couldn't have orchestrated something.

I felt like I was being watched while we followed Tomas. As it turned out, it was only Zevran occasionally boring holes into my back with his eyes. I had no idea why-maybe he disapproved of getting involved in the affairs here? He definitely had a different set of morals than I did at times.  
Descending down the dirt path on the hill, the large castle came into view in the distance. From what I could see, it looked both impressive and incredibly sturdy. Undead or no, anyone would have a formidable time trying to force their way in or out. Though I hoped everything was as Tomas said, I prayed again that we were not walking into a trap.

My thoughts were distracted, however, when I heard Zevran answer a question Leliana posed to him about his tattoos. I was slightly jealous, as I hadn't worked up the nerve to ask myself, thinking it was perhaps rude of me. I knew though, that Leliana had no such reserves, and had asked out of curiosity. She gleaned stories and information like a magpie, and this would be just another one for her collection. Even so, Zevran seemed to raise his voice a little while he answered her simple question.

"They are not all in places you have yet seen. I can show you, if you wish." he said, grinning.  
I kept myself from glaring at him but my heart beat a little faster. He was not bluffing about the placement, as I had seen them all; along his shoulders, his side and his spine, and even curving around his hip bones towards...my face burned and I kept my eyes ahead.

Leliana had no interest however, stating she was content enough with the ones she could see while he was fully clothed.

"Have it your way," Zevran chuckled. "Should you change your mind…" Either he was goading me or he truly felt no exclusivity to the activities we had engaged in just the evening prior. My chest tightened. It was his right to carry on as he pleased, but I thought we had something more than just a casual connection. How stupid was I?

Alistair noticed my silence.

"Are you alright?" he asked me.

"Just trying to focus on the task at hand," I said, and he nodded sympathetically. We had reached the Chantry. Upon entering I saw that a good portion of the townsfolk were making preparations for a seige. The thought was disconcerting, but I let my guard down a little. If this were a trap, now would have been the time to spring, and these people clearly had other things to worry about. Now we just had to deal with the unfriendly undead. Ironically, that was more pleasant.

We were introduced to Bann Teagan, with whom Alistair struck up a conversation. Trusting in Alistair's faith in the man, I spoke with him and he briefed us on the situation. He gave suggestions how we might help Redcliffe prepare for the the onslaught predicted for the evening. I made a mental note to do as much as I could to improve the morale of the townsfolk and the militia in the process, who were downtrodden, to say the least at this point. He also had about as much information on Arl Eamon as we did, and was just as concerned.

As our briefing came to a close, I again noticed Zevran staring at me intently, as well as at Alistair and even the Bann. Reminded of his flirtation with Leliana just a short time ago, my cheeks flushed ever so slightly. I felt embarrassed; here I was, a Grey Warden, tasked with trying to save an entire village from destruction from supernatural forces and a dying Arl, and yet I allowed this elf, this assassin, this self-professed "professional lover" to get under my skin. I was done with it. I no longer had to answer to anyone-not humans, not elves, not dwarves, not kings or queens nor any authority but my own; such was my privilege for the burden in my blood. If Zevran wished to fool around with me, I wasn't going to let myself be a fool.

Teagan was indicating that his part in the conversation was over, and duty called, but I stopped him. I made sure that Zevran was paying close attention to what I was doing.

"Bann Teagan." The man turned to look at me once more. He was handsome, well spoken and stood several inches taller than me, so I cocked my hip and looked upwards at him, angling my face ever so slightly. I had noticed him taking a glance or two at me during our previous conversation, and took a chance.

"I would like to get to know you a little better."

"This seems hardly the time," he said, remarking that we had much to do before nightfall. But I was not dissuaded.

"There is daylight enough," I said, changing the pitch in my voice. "Come, it would be acceptable to indulge me a bit before I waltz into battle, would it not? I do not think knowing a little about you is too much to ask."  
I raised an eyebrow and he stuttered, apologizing.

"My apologies, my lady, what is it that you would wish to know?"

"I was interested in knowing if you had family waiting for you, back in Rainesfere?"

"Oh… No, I am not married, I have never had the pleasure," some colour came to his cheeks and out of the corner of my eyes I saw Zevran's eyes narrow, ever so slightly.

Teagan produced a warm smile and added, "I'm sure that if I were to, I would be quite lucky to find a woman as lovely as yourself."

I swayed ever so slightly towards him and giggled. "You are too kind to flatter me so, Teagan." As a Grey Warden, I was relatively positive I had the authority to drop the honorific of Bann before his name, and did so to show both familiarity and my own status.

He smiled and asked if I myself were married.

Almost, was what I thought, but put it aside. I was moving on now.

"No, indeed I am not," I said.

"Surely, that is a crime somewhere," he said flirtatiously.

"Then I will have to look into resolving the issue," I said, "I would hate to seem like I encourage crime." I glanced over at Zevran who met my secondary gaze with eyes gleaming like cold bronze, then returned to Teagan.

"I apologize, my lady, I should not be so bold."

"No, do not apologize. The world lacks boldness, and the ability to be forthright without offending. I am not offended, certainly. But, we should perhaps return to the matter at hand?"

The rest of the day was spent preparing and fortifying the village. Our efforts paid off, and though we sustained losses, the damage was minimal and we were victorious over the undead. We rested well, for the few hours we had left before daylight. In the morning, we were finally free to pursue an audience with Arl Eamon. As we made to leave, however, we were shocked to see a woman who turned out to be Arlessa Isolde sprint towards us. She implored Teagan to go with her, and after getting as much information out of her as we could, he followed her back to the castle. Leaving directions with us to enter the castle secretly, we waited briefly to give them time to return, and re-evaluated our situation.  
I could tell by his demeanor that Zevran was happy to see the man leave our group; pettiness that both satisfied and annoyed me, while also creating an inexplicable desire. I shoved the thought aside and made ready to depart. While I inspected my pack and blades, Alistair and Zevran engaged in some discussion about Ferelden while Declan demanded belly rubs. Leliana sauntered over to me and spoke to me quietly.

"I saw what you were doing yesterday, and I have to say, I'm somewhat impressed."

"You mean with killing the undead? We...we were all doing that." I was confused.

"No, no not that," she said, "I mean, in the Chantry when we arrived, when you got a little personal with Bann Teagan."

"Oh. I was only-"

"Only making Zevran jealous? I saw him staring the whole time, I thought he was going to try and sneak up from behind Teagan and stab him with his daggers." She laughed melodically, and placed a hand on her cocked hip.

"I can't say I'm particularly attracted to the Bann in that way, but I thought perhaps Zevran should experience someone else shamelessly flirting, for a change," I confessed, and couldn't suppress a slight grin.

She chuckled again. "You would not be the first to use men's attraction to your advantage; attraction is, after all, a tool wielded by everyone, whether they know it or not. Like any blade, some are simply more skilled than others, and keep it constantly sharp. Zevran is definitely someone who keeps his dagger polished. I think some humbling would do him good." She winked at me and walked away.

I realized, standing there and watching him play with Declan, laughing and cracking jokes in the midst of all our trials, that I wanted Zevran to want me. And though I knew that monogamy was definitely not his style, I was not content to have him simply disregard my own wants. If he wanted to flirt with others while being intimate with me, he was going to have to have my permission first. If that failed, then he would have to deal with the fact that I would mimic his behaviour; if he couldn't handle that, then he would have to change his ways.

Right now though, I was content to let him sit in whatever jealousy he may or may not have for the time being. We had to get a move on. I gathered us together, and we shouldered our packs before descending into the secret tunnel, cautiously marching towards the castle from below.

* * *

The next two weeks were a slow rush. Alistair had insisted that we preserve Isolde from sacrificing herself for her son. I admired that; if she had treated me the way she had him during childhood, I can't say I wouldn't have wanted revenge.  
But Connor deserved a mother, and Wynne was willing to go into the Fade. I sent her with Shale, Oghren and Sten back to the Circle with a letter from myself, imploring Irving to send us aid. We needed to split into two groups or risk the Arl's health even more. Teagan mentioned that Brother Genitivi in Denerim had information on the Urn of Sacred Ashes. While one group journeyed to the Circle, the rest of us would trek to Denerim. The Arlessa lent us horses to speed our travel; we would be able to make it within a week or less if we rode hard. By the time we returned, hopefully Connor would be liberated.

At the last moment, Zevran opted to return to the Circle with Wynne. He stated that he had reason to avoid Denerim so soon after parting ways with the Crows-they would certainly have spies in the large city who would spell trouble for us. Though I was reluctant to leave him behind, I couldn't deny his reasoning; we couldn't have anything slow us down either, and he stayed. In the end, Declan and I hastened towards Denerim with Alistair, Leliana and Morrigan.

How long had it been since I was within the city's walls? A lifetime ago, it seemed. The journey was tiresome, and we passed the time alternating stories. We talked about our families and our upbringings, and we reflected on the journey so far. Alistair mentioned his sister, Goldanna; I remembered seeing her in the Fade with him but I had never thought to ask. I promised we would make a short detour while we sought out Genitivi, if it was possible. Leliana revealed the real reason for her interlude in Lothering before she joined us, and Marjolaine's treachery. Morrigan spent most of the time pretending to ignore us, thumbing through the Black Grimoire I had found in the Circle. Even so, she surprised me one evening to implore my help and obtain her Mother's Grimoire-which coincidentally meant killing Flemeth. The idea was terrifying, but I agreed, against my own better judgment.

My companions were becoming close to me, close enough to consider friends and gain my trust. The days seemed to pass by quicker when they chattered, even though I would be exhausted when I fell into my bedroll. As much as I valued their company though, I missed Zevran, especially when we made camp. I longed to hear his exciting stories about his previous contracts, his home city, and even if I hated to admit it, I longed for his special attention and general flattery. It was less than a week since our tryst in his tent and I still got flashes of memory from it; he invaded my dreams, waking me up with longing.

"I don't know what you see in that sneaky elf anyways, Bridget." Alistair said to me one morning as we rode. Though Leliana and Morrigan looked elsewhere, I knew they were eavesdropping.

"I mean, he tried to assassinate you-well, both of us actually, and our friends. I think it would take me a little bit of time to get over that, especially before...before…."

I was slightly mortified but also amused, because Alistair looked incredibly uncomfortable.

"Before what, Ali?"

"Well I just would think that the better way to get a lady into your bed would be with say, flowers or gifts or, I don't know, poetry. Not an attempt on her life."

Leliana snorted and dropped her pretense of not listening.

"You have never been to Orlais, clearly," she said and moved ahead, leaving us to talk.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, he did actually attempt some poetry." I smiled, reminded of the awful lewd lines of poetry he had recited in jest. Butterflies exploded in my stomach when that memory was accompanied with the sound of his rumbling, Antivan accent and the hot trail of breath he left as he moved his lips near my neck, ears and lips.

I knew, at this point, that Alistair wasn't jealous, he was genuinely concerned. Our traumas thus far had brought us close, but not romantically. I think, if I knew what it was to have a brother, it would be something like this. I also took his words to heart, and wanted to put his mind at ease.

"I can hardly explain it to myself Alistair," I said. "My life, all our lives, are complicated now. We have a traitorous man declaring himself king, likely more bounties on our heads, a damned blight to deal with and at this moment, a mythical, magical urn full of the ashes of Andraste herself to try and find. When I think about that, the idea that I could enjoy the company of an attractive man who wants to spend time with me and "get me in his tent" is slightly less complicated, overall."

He sat on his horse, silent for a moment. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pried."

"It's okay. I'm thankful for your concern. I know if it was the other way around, I would try to look after you."

"In no world would I ever be seduced by Zevran-I don't think he even likes cheese...and have you seen his hair?"

I burst out laughing. "Alright then, if you suddenly fell head over heels for Morrigan-"

"His neck would surely break on the way, if I had not already done so for him first," Morrigan interrupted, before joining Leliana ahead of us.

"Morrigan, I'm wounded," Alistair mocked a hurt expression, calling after her. "Never let me get intimate with that witch; kill me first," he joked to me.

"Duly noted. Look, I have never been in the position I am now, having responsibility, a position to uphold-power. It's scary, Ali. I'm figuring myself and my role in this world out. Because it definitely isn't what I always imagined it would be, growing up. I don't think, if I even live long enough, I'm ever going to have a shot for romance, that I'll have a home to place flowers in, or time for poetry or use for gifts. What I do have is a lot on my mind, and a friend who does a very good job of helping me forget all the things that terrify me. Does that make sense? I haven't exactly forgotten the assassin thing but...we all have jobs to do right? Even the choices the Grey Wardens can have ambiguous morals, don't you think?"

He nodded. "I understand. And, if it makes you happy, then I'm alright with it. I still think he's shifty and I am going to keep an eye on him but...I trust your judgment."

I reached across from my horse and grasped his hand. "Thank you, Ali."

* * *

Denerim was disconcerting. The Alienage was locked off, and I had to struggle not to panic. I vowed to return as soon as possible to see if my family was safe; there was nothing I could do in the meantime. Being a Grey Warden in the city was dangerous and I had no other leverage to get in.

Brother Genitivi was missing and now his assistant as well as the imposter pretending to be his assistant was dead. We had a trail though, and would follow it as soon as we reunited with our companions in Redcliffe. Our visit was even briefer than expected, due to the missing Brother, and Alistair and I went to visit his sister before leaving the city, since the horses would need a rest.

It was a horrible affair. Goldanna lived up to the first half of her name, and cared about nothing but getting her hands on some of Alistair's gold. I hated her. If it weren't for Alistair's kindness, I would have made her understand what respect and gratefulness was. Life in the Alienage was no better off than hers, in the exact same city, and yet she was nothing but entitled. I wasn't shocked, but disappointed for Alistair's sake. Though I wanted to tell him we should leave the miserable woman be, I agreed to leave her with something, and we walked out of her disheveled house 15 sovereigns lighter. I pitied Alistair's tenderheartedness, his eagerness to meet her, and how his expectations crumbled like a stale cookie when he realized she was nothing but a greedy wench of a washerwoman. Previously, I would have tried to soothe him, but I remembered what he had said to me before we entered Redcliffe: that he had always been coddled. When we took a breath after leaving the house I spoke to him honestly.

"Alistair, I grew up in this city, in the Alienage. It can be cutthroat, and kindness is often wasted. It doesn't mean we can't try, but you need to learn that in general, people are only out for themselves. Unfortunately, it's best to assume that before laying yourself on the line for them."

He considered my words and thanked me. We stopped in a few shops for supplies before returning to our camp outside the city. I was now anxious to get back to Redcliffe, and to Zevran.

Alistair spoke to me at camp again.

"I've been thinking," he said.

"Well that's always dangerous," I winked at him. "What have you been thinking about?"

"About what you told me after we left Goldanna's...I need to look out for myself, and take charge of my life, and stop letting others make decisions for me. I was thinking too about what you said when I asked you about Zevran; I need to take a stand and think about myself for a change, or I'm never going to be happy."

He did need to grow a thicker skin, and lead his own life, but I was worried that my example with Zevran was not a good one-I wasn't even sure if I was happy yet.

"Alistair, I'm glad you took what I said to heart, but you don't have to let me influence you."

"No, everything you said made sense, and you're right, I should be looking out for myself more, unless I misunderstood you?"

"No, you didn't misunderstand," I smiled, "But you don't have to do it just because I said so, that's part of the whole deal."

"I don't think you're right because I can't make my own decisions, I know you're right, and I want to change my life. Everything makes sense when it's laid out. I just...I wish I had seen this a long time ago. I'm not telling you this because I want your approval, I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for being there for me, and a true friend, and in all this blighted work we have to do, being the one bright spot that I can count on."

I leaned forward and gave him a tight hug.

"Alistair, that is very sweet of you to say so, thank you. I am happy you trust me, I wouldn't want to fight darkspawn with anyone else."

He laughed. "Let's get back to Redcliffe."

* * *

We returned to Redcliffe as quickly as we could, informing the Bann and the Arlessa that we had a lead on the Urn. We neglected to mention that Genitivi was missing, but they were already so consumed with concern over Eamon, I felt it was best to leave that part out.  
Wynne had been successful in entering the Fade and exorcising the desire demon terrorizing Connor. Irving was still there as well, monitoring the situation until we arrived. I determined to see him back to the Circle safely the next day.

In Denerim, "Wymon" had been guarding Brother Genitivi's notes literally with his life; the notes on the Urn mentioned some unknown village, but we also had a lead to the Spoiled Princess at Lake Calenhad. We would stop there while we accompanied Irving back to the Circle. I was sure it was a trap, but I wanted as much information as I could gather before heading to the village.

We rode towards Lake Calenhad with more borrowed horses, and Zevran came up beside me.

"How was your visit to Denerim?" he asked me.

"Brief." I explained to him that the Alienage was closed off, and that after finding Genitivi missing and killing the imposter in his home, we didn't linger long.

"His notes directed us to some village named Haven in the mountains, but the imposter tried to direct us to Lake Calenhad."

"Surely then, _Amore_ , you realize that this diversion is going to be a trap."

"Oh, I fully expect a trap. I can't say I'm not looking forward to seeing anyone try and stop me. I am quite done with being underestimated, and having my life threatened. I have a blight to stop. Anyone who wants to get in my way can enjoy my knife in their back."

Zevran laughed. "I see I was wrong-I had previously thought you could not get more beautiful, but when you talk like this...ah, you blind me with your radiance."

He was a twisted man, clearly, and I raised an eyebrow to let him know I wasn't going to fall to such thick flattery, but I was aware we were at least back to where we had been before Redcliffe, and so far he had not attempted to flirt with anyone else. In fact, if I wasn't wrong, he was paying me more attention than before. Leliana may have been right.

"Just be careful, Zev, if you gild your tongue much more, it might turn completely into gold," I said, smiling at him before guiding my steed forward at a slightly faster pace to meet Leliana at the head of our group. I heard Zevran tsk and chuckle at me as I went.

I'm sure that I, shaky and still a weak rider, was not exactly an impressive sight to look at from behind right then, but I made my point. I would accept his attention, and enjoy the flirtation but I wasn't interested in lies or flattery that went over the top. I would never consider myself extraordinarily beautiful, especially under these circumstances, and he didn't have to lay it on so thickly. Though, even as I knew the ministrations were ridiculous, I admitted I enjoyed it.

"Leliana?" I got as close as I could maneuver safely on my horse, lowering my voice so no one else would hear. We were the only ones up at the front and she looked at me quizzically.

"Do you know what 'ah-more-ay' is?"

"The flat water creature, that glides on strange wings?" She looked confused.

"The what? No...I don't think I am asking about that. I think it must be something in Antiva maybe? I don't know if you know much about Antiva."

"Oh, this is something Zevran said to you, I assume?"

"Yes, just now he said it to me. I think he was calling me it."

"Oh!" Leliana giggled. "You must mean _Amore_." She pronounced it as he had, accented and lingering on the vowel halfway through before rolling the last part off of her tongue. It sounded beautiful.

"Yes...a-amooray" I tried to say the word, it was thick and had a rich feel on my tongue.

"Not too bad, but your accent needs some work," she winked at me. "It is indeed Antivan; it means "love", specifically used for women. For instance, if I had a lover or a close relative such as a daughter I would say it to her. I would call her amore or, even more specifically, _mi amore_ , which is 'my love'."

Used for lovers? My face felt a bit flush.

"Specifically for women?" I asked, curious.

"Yes, in Antivan, some words are specific to gender. That does not mean there is not a masculine equivalent. In this case, Zevran could be called _amor_ , or _mi amor_. You just don't add the last part."

" _Amor_ …." I said, pondering the sound.

"You said Zevran called you _amore_?" she asked me. I confirmed and she smiled again, deviously.

"Should...should I call him _Amor_?" I asked.

I was puzzled. How had this happened? Unless he meant nothing by the word and it was used freely in his home country, he considered me a lover. That was someone special, important and exclusive to someone; not a leader, not an elf, not a Grey Warden, but a person. Despite the name, I did know that no actual "love" had to be possible, not in a more traditional sense, anyway.

Leliana answered me, "Ah my friend, that is up to you, and how you feel about him. But before you decide, let's work on that accent, hmm?"

She taught me several words and phrases as we rode, and I finally was able to use a passable accent, fluttering my tongue ever so slightly against the top of my palate to pronounce the sultry, rolling sound I heard so often in Zevran's own speech. Leliana was pleased and I practised the words with her and repeated them over in my mind, memorizing them for a time I might need them.

We reached Lake Calenhad and split again into groups. Wynne accompanied Irving along with Alistair and Leliana. I sent Shale with them too, as I believed Dagna would be at the Circle by now, and I thought she would be fascinated by the Golem. Dagna was so sweet, I couldn't avoid passing up the opportunity for her. Shale would disapprove, of course, but considering she approved of so little, I was willing to risk it. I entered the inn with Zevran, Morrigan and my hound, leaving the rest of our group out of sight in case the trap we were walking into was more dangerous than I assumed.

The innkeeper was far more serious and reluctant to talk when I moved beyond the realm of ordering drinks, and looked scared. I judged that he was not part of any plans involving the missing knights beyond simply being threatened into unwilling participation. He mentioned he had a wife and child to protect, and I promised him that I would take care of the situation.

"When I leave the tavern," I said to him, "do whatever they normally ask you to do, or signal that I am a threat. I will deal with them." I said.

"Thank you, m'lady, I am in your debt," he said, with relief filling his eyes.

Shortly after exiting the Spoiled Princess, we were ambushed as I expected. There were nearly a dozen men I think, and they were incredibly strong. If they had taken us by surprise it would not have gone so well, but my remaining companions emerged from the dark and aided us to take the men down. I admit that I was enraged, and fought more viciously than normal. The last time someone wittingly tried to assassinate me I had been unprepared, but now when I had the upper hand I was incensed and vengeful.  
I gouged at necks, just short of instant death, and watched them fall, clutching in pain on the ground as they bled. I found a leg exposed, and sliced the back of the knees, then held the man before letting him fall, helpless, into my sword. Blood splashed across my face and burned on my tongue. I could hear Zevran laughing and turned to watch him engage in a deathly duel with a burly man in heavy armour. He had managed to knock the man's helmet off but was struggling to get closer again, due to the massive axe the warrior wielded. But this man was marked for death, and I strode close, screaming with energy as I kicked him from behind. He fell forward and I smashed his hands with my longsword, causing him to lose his grip before I clutched his sweaty, bloody hair in my hands and jerked his head backwards. I stared straight across from him to Zevran, who was going to come in with a well place stabbed.

"No," I snarled at him, "He is mine." I tore my dagger across his neck, cutting in deeply and savagely while the man's blood poured over my hand. He was the last of them; the rest were dead on the ground and there was no one else in the area besides ourselves.

"Take anything of value and leave their corpses," I said. "I want whoever sent them to know you don't fuck with Grey Warden business."

* * *

It was dark when our companions returned to camp from the Circle. Shale glared at me and I avoided her for now. I was told by Wynne, however, that Dagna was one thrilled little dwarf, and had settled into the Circle marvellously.

I had cast aside my armour and wore instead an outfit of linen trousers, soft deerskin boots and a warm woolen top. I was so covered in blood and sweat from the ambush that it had taken ages to clean myself off with frigid water. My leather armour was likely able to be cleaned, but I had worn it for so long that I cast it aside. Bodhan assured me he had items I could replace it with, and I would pick them up in the morning before we left. For now, I enjoyed the feel of soft cloth on my skin, and the almost weightlessness of it all, after being combat ready for ages.

The evening was cold and I sat by the roaring fire in the middle of camp, absorbing its heat and massaging my sore limbs.

"My dear, you know if you wanted a massage, you could have just asked." Zevran snuck up beside me at the fire, and lowered himself to the ground.

"I could, but I think I know how your massages end. Fool me twice…." I smiled at him, teasing.

He smiled, briefly, then his brow crinkled. Looking me in the eye he said, "I wanted to apologize to you for not accompanying you to Denerim. In truth, I refused to go because the last time I was there, I was a miserable man, escaping the consequences of my last job."

I was taken aback by the shift in attitude, but welcomed his trust in my confidence.

"You want to tell me about it?"

He looked at the fire momentarily before answering. "Yes, I think it is time, I owe you this much, Warden. There was a time, I must tell you, before now, when I was a cocky and arrogant man."

Mocking shock, I clutched my chest. "Why Zevran, I didn't know that was even possible."

He chuckled. "Why yes, it's true. I thought I was the best assassin alive, the best Crow to walk on Thedas. I constantly boasted of my conquests as both assassin and lover. I had a talent, if you will-I was often told how insufferable I was, before ultimately ending up in bed with someone."

His last words brought a flutter to my insides, and heat to my cheeks, but I was silent as he continued.

"But there is danger of course in arrogance and boasting that I did not see at the time…."

I listened while he told me about his past with the Crows, and his teammates Taliesen and Rinna. Though not shocked, I was moved by his description of their friendship, and her "betrayal". The poor woman was the only one who was betrayed, both by her guild and the man she loved. In the context of their profession, I was less sympathetic than I could have been, however, and yet I knew how jarring and defeating it was to be told that you are nothing. How brutalizing it was to be treated and constantly reminded that you are, to someone else, subhuman and dispensable-that your life was not your own and you could be tossed away on a whim. That was something I had witnessed firsthand, repeatedly.

Perversely, I was almost jealous of this Rinna; at the very least I was jealous of Zevran's clear admiration, and the fact that he actually loved her. But I was alive, and she was not. I shamed myself and thrust the thoughts out of my mind. I was glad that as cocky and arrogant as Zevran still was, he was obviously not the same man he was describing to me now. He was softer perhaps, more cautious and wiser. And now, could I really blame him for putting on his persona, for reveling in his skills when it was all he had, the only thing that kept him from the reality his Masters wanted him to feel, that he was a pawn to be used? No.

"You once asked," he said, "why I wanted to leave the crows. And the truth is not that I cared about leaving the Crows, but that I wanted to die. Trying to kill Grey Wardens seemed my best option at the time, so I accepted the mark willingly. Of course, we know what happened there, no? And here I am today."

I placed my chin in my hand, elbow rested on my thigh and regarded him. I wanted to say I was sorry for him, sorry for his pain, for his past and for a life he had as much control over as I did. But there was something more pertinent I wanted to know.

"And now...do you still...want to die?" I said slowly, carefully.

His voice was firm. "No. Indeed, I left Antiva seeking death, and did not find it. But, I have found something else, here, and that it is what I truly needed. And now...now what I want is to begin anew. I owe you, greatly, for this, Warden."

"I am glad to hear that Zevran. And I am glad that you are here with us...I enjoy having you here." I smiled warmly, happy to hear his words.

"And I am happy to be here as well, especially with you," he responded. "Come, let us move on to happier conversation."

Wynne had several bottles of wine she had brought with her back from the Circle, and we both filled our cups with wine, toasting the evening. Zevran and I continued to talk until the moon was high in the clear sky, and the stars shone brightly. He pointed out constellations to me, and I memorized them. Back in the Alienage, I had never paid much attention to the night sky. When your life is walled in, the endless space above you only makes you sad, and jealous of the birds who fly about without a care in the world. I focused on my fighting skills instead.  
Now though, I appreciated the beauty and reveled in the freedom I had, even if I was a servant to nations and my duty. Nothing compared to the feeling of breathing in clean night air while listening to the calm sounds of crickets and a fire crackling, knowing I no longer had to fear a human or anyone else breaking into my home, ruining everything.

I stretched and yawned.

"You were impressive today, you know." Zevran said suddenly.

"During the ambush?" I asked.

"Yes. Quite marvellous. I have never seen you so savage, so raw, so powerful. It was quite thrilling, and quite sexy too, I might add."

"Trust you to find a woman slitting a man's throat sexy, Zev." I rolled my eyes.

"Ah, but it is not about the cutting of the throat. It is the fire in your eyes, the purpose in your stride, the absolute certainty of yourself and what you are about to do. You, in that moment, are the god who decides life or death, and your righteousness would reduce any man to nothing. It is what makes a leader who demands following-a Queen who you would fall to your knees and worship without question; you command everything that one could desire."

I eyed him warily but from his tone, he wasn't actually just flirting this time. He was serious, and I believe I understood what he was saying. After all, we love the tales of the Kings and Queens who were glorious in battle, meting out justice and death to the wicked, leading us in dark times. But that he saw that in me? There was an almost dreamy look in his amber eyes and I joked, saying he must have had too much wine.

" _Amore_ , I am from Antiva, I am immune to the effects of wine-our blood is practically made of wine by now."

There was that word again.

"If it is not the wine then," I said, "then what are you bringing this up for? I think I had good reason to hand out a little righteousness, don't you think?"

"Yes, yes, I wholeheartedly agree. I merely wanted to let you know the effects of your actions, my dear, and that if you were so inclined, I would be more than willing to show you the attention you command in your ever so devoted followers."

I laughed, and it felt good. He was so one-minded it seemed, and yet just a short time ago had poured his heart out. He had said he wanted to begin anew. I think we all here wanted that, by choice or not. At the very least, what I did know was that he was becoming increasingly attractive, and the wine was helping me with that. In this moment, I wanted to be desired, craved and cared for. I wanted to be rewarded for all the effort I made and good I was trying to accomplish, and be seen for someone besides just a Grey Warden. In short, I wanted exactly what he was offering me.

"I would definitely be inclined... _Amor_."

He raised his eyebrows, surprised, and laughed. "I always knew you spoke my language, but I didn't know it would be literally."  
He stood and lifted me up by the hands before kissing me deeply. The rest of our camp was either out of sight, back at the tavern drinking, or asleep in their tents. I followed him to his, which was as I had remembered it from last time, littered with cushions amongst his bedroll and lit softly with glowstones. A bowl of scented water sat on the ground in the corner; a dweomer inside the bowl kept the water steaming hot, and the scent of flowers I did not know the names of filled the tent. No massages were necessary this time to put me at ease and he gently aided me to the ground amidst kisses.

I was still inexperienced, but even if I hadn't known objectively that I was literally in the hands of a master, I would have figured it out very quickly. Any awkwardness I might have felt, even after being with him once before, due to that lack of experience was erased by Zevran's touch.

I positioned myself under his half naked body and he guided my lips with his own, my chin with delicate fingers, and my tongue with his tongue. He trailed kisses along my throat, my collarbone, and my neck, making me shiver and awaking the deepest parts of me to a quivering heat. On his knees, he pinned me in place at the waist and roved his hands along my hips, working their way up my ribs and breasts, removing my woolen top before resuming their place on my sides. The entire focus was on me, and I lost track of time underneath him until a nagging thought crept in, telling me that I was supposed to do more, that I had no idea what I was doing just laying there. I tensed and he noticed.

"Is something wrong, my dear?"

"I-" I blushed and struggled to find the words. "I'm worried that I'm not doing something right; you're doing everything for me and I feel like-like you must be expecting me to do something, no?" I bit my lip and closed my eyes, worried he would laugh at me, or worse tell me that I was stupid.

Instead, he pulled me up gently towards him and traced his fingers along the side of my jaw, studying my face.

"So beautiful," he said. "Your innocence makes it only more so." He smiled kindly, creating crinkles at the corner of his eyes. "There is nothing you can do here, with me, that is wrong. I will never expect you to do anything. Right now, my focus is you, my goal is your happiness; your satisfaction satisfies me. There will plenty of time in this world for me, when you are ready. If I wanted something different than this, you would know. So instead, let me ask you, what do you want, _mi regina_?"

I knew that word; Leliana had taught it to me. Queen-my Queen.

I looked at his face, golden in the dim light and framed by his tattoos and blond hair, and ran my fingers along his jaw and cheek up to his ear, feeling their softness. I pulled him towards me and kissed him, pressing my chest against his while he folded his arms around me in an embrace. Then I leaned forward and whispered into his ear.

"I want you to worship me."

"As you wish," he responded, grinning wickedly, and laid me back down on the ground before making the world melt away.

* * *

I don't know how long we slept afterwards. When I awoke I could tell it was still dark outside, though dawn would be soon. Even so, I felt more rested than I had in months. I was nestled with my back against Zevran's chest, sharing his bedroll under some blankets and furs. I rolled towards him and regarded his face; peaceful, sleeping and utterly handsome. Tenderly I nuzzled his nose with mine, and planted some soft kisses on his forehead, cheeks and a last one on his lips. His eyes opened and after a second focused on me. He smiled in a way that melted my heart instantaneously, like I was all that existed in the world and that was all he cared about.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked me, voice husky with sleep. I nodded and smiled.

"Excellent," he said.

There was a strong wind passing outside, and the canvas walls of the tent swayed slightly under the force. They would hold fast, but some of the cold seeped in and I shivered, pulling my arms under the furs against my naked body to shield them. Unintentionally, I stretched them down, placing my hands near my thighs as I would any other time, only I ended up accidentally brushing them against Zevran. I blushed, surprised. He had just woken up, surely a man's parts were not always so...hardened?

"I-I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

He looked confused and then laughed.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, _bella_. This is just normal in the morning...though perhaps it is your fault for invading my dreams all night."

I rolled my eyes half-heartedly, but smiled, feeling shy. I shivered again.

"You are cold?" he asked me.

His body was like a furnace, and I pressed against him tightly. My lower half rubbed against his and a feeling that was beginning to be familiar rose in my lower half.

"Shall we help you warm up before we begin another long journey this morning, my dear?" he asked, rubbing his left hand on my ass and pulling my hips towards him.

"Unnf", was all I could manage to get out. The greyness outside the tent was beginning to lighten, and the wind was still strong.

"I don't know how much time we have before daylight," I said, even as my body rebelled against my words.

"We do not always have to take as much time as we did last evening," he said, before removing our coverings. The air hit me like ice, and I shivered while my whole body turned into gooseflesh. I looked down and suddenly forgot, however, when I spotted the hard cock between his thighs. I had no memory to compare it to, but it was longer than my hand was tall, and when I instinctively went to grab it, I found it thicker and heavier than I expected.

"Mmmm."

Zevran seemed to awaken more and my mouth was suddenly on the verge of drooling. I moved and took him between my lips for the first time, surprised by the softness of the skin and the hardness of the shaft itself. Not allowing myself to think or stumble, I ran my mouth up and down it, gripping with what I hoped was not too firm a touch at the base of it. He thumbed my ear and stroked my hair while I sucked, savouring the taste of his skin and enjoying the fullness in my mouth. The sounds he made and the response of his body to my touch turned me on, and I forgot the cold and even myself, focused on this task and hoping to make him feel as much pleasure as possible. I began to understand how he was content before to spend so much time on me alone. I could feel myself getting wetter the longer I went.

After several minutes he stopped me gently and I looked at him, terrified I had done something wrong. However, he just pulled me to his lips and kissed me passionately for a moment, while reaching a hand down to where I was now throbbing . I gasped when his fingers touched me, and within another moment he guided my legs apart to wrap around his, entering me.

I moaned, sighing, while he slid in and out. I found that I was sore from the night before, but there was a distinct pleasure to the ache, like the relieving pain of a knotted muscle being undone. I rocked my body into his, taking him as deeply as I could, while he kissed and caressed me. One hand he placed behind me and the other he used somehow to manipulate my swollen clitoris. I looked deep into his eyes when I could, until I had to close my eyes, tossing my neck back. Wave upon wave of that electric heat overpowered me, initiated with each thrust, and I held onto the precipice of the edge until I couldn't, letting go and arching my back, clutching his shoulders and releasing an unintelligible cry. Within seconds, he allowed himself the same release, and I felt him empty inside of me, filling me and expanding, setting my nerves on fire again. Helpless, I held onto him while he embraced me, feeling as though I would melt into his body, and kissed him, tasting his tongue.

I curled my forehead into his neck, and everything else disappeared in the scent of his body, the warmth of his arms, and the strength of his embrace.

He tilted my chin to look into his eyes.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," he said.

And this time, I believed him.


	3. Andraste's Knickers

_Haven._

It was cold, covered in a fine dusting of snow, and cursed. At least, I had to imagine that it was cursed. Considering it guarded a relic so holy, it was surprising but the entire place was eerie, and populated by the remnants of a cult. When we refused to abort our mission, we accidentally provoked them, causing them to attack. We slew every last one of the townsfolk, and the ensuing silence afterwards was deafening and disturbing. I wished to quit the place but we pressed on.

Brother Genitivi, being from Denerim, was essentially a local celebrity. Even in the Alienage we had heard of him and were aware of his contributions to Thedas. I was nervous about meeting him, and even more nervous that I might find him dead, or not find him at all. But when we searched the Chantry, we found him locked behind a concealed door; he was hurt, but thankfully not on the edge of death. For someone so travelled and wise, the man was humble and unassuming. He was strong and brave as well, it turned out, after what he had endured at the hands of the deranged cultists. I found myself conferring to him a great deal of respect, and my nervousness was replaced by my sense of duty and springing to action. We tended his wounds and aided him as best we could before seeking out the Ashes. I allowed him to remain in the ancient ruins and study. There was a tenacity to his manner and a stubborn will that would not be denied, and it seemed like keeping him away would not only punish him, but keep hidden from Thedas whatever he would uncover about this ancient place. I worried momentarily about more cultists, but acknowledged that we were more likely to find them ahead of us, and not behind. I had the impression too, that he had encountered far more dangerous places than this. I tried to get my mabari to stay with him, but he would not be parted from me, and we left Genitivi to his studies.

My suspicions about the cultists rang true. We encountered more hidden in the ruins as we made our way through them. Like the ones in the village and the ones who ambushed us at Lake Calenhad, these warriors were exceptionally strong-almost superhuman. Alistair, Morrigan, Zevran and I struggled at times to overcome them.  
The ruins were freezing, but incredibly impressive. I was unsure who built them, or when, but there was skill cut in every stone, dedication etched in every pillar, and beauty carved in every statue. Massive stone ceilings arched hundreds of feet above us, and we stepped as quietly as we could on the ancient marble to avoid the deafening echoes that would give us away. We did not know if our fights with the cultists had attracted more, so we took no chances.

We finally made it to a doorway that opened into caves that appeared to be dug into the mountainside. Initially, they were icy and cold like the ruins, but as we progressed the ice melted, the air thickened, and warmth filled the stone and earthen passages. A scent lingered on the air that I could not place, but it had a sulphuric quality to it. When we entered and for quite a while as we traveled through these tunnels, we encountered no creatures or cultists. Declan scouted ahead, followed by Alistair. Morrigan went next; the two would occasionally torment each other with interrogations and jabs. Zevran and I took up the rear, looking out for followers.

"So, Bridget," Zevran said to me quietly, "do you think these Ashes will cure the Arl?"

"I certainly hope so, otherwise all this effort could have been spent on the Blight. Sten already scolded me enough about this detour."

"Surely, ridding the world of a dangerous cult and saving a famous scholar is worthwhile, no? Even if our Qunari friend does not approve."

I smiled and agreed. Zevran was still incredibly ambiguous in his morals, and cocky and arrogant. But it seemed that he truly reveled in our successes. He actually enjoyed the genuine gratitude showered on us from those we encountered in our journeys and had been able to help, whether it was a nobleman or a peasant. His pride extended to the whole company, and he seemed to be proud of our efforts overall, our strength, our skill, and our purpose. Sometimes, I swore this pride was directed at me specifically and I strove harder. I told myself that he believed in me, and wanted to prove myself to him, even if I didn't have to.

Since he had first given in and revealed to me the secrets and skills essential to assassins, our evenings together were mostly spent sparring after an evening meal. I found, during these sessions, that here was very little he would not divulge to me if I prodded enough-particularly if I was undressed somewhere in the process. If we had the time, we would practise until it was too dark to see, waiting until someone would make a mistake in the fading light, causing the other to tease or ridicule them. I could tell as time went on that he was impressed. More recently, these evenings would almost always end with a skin of wine and a string of compliments before we inevitably found ourselves naked in his tent or mine, which we now pitched close to each other. It was two days now since our last evening together, and I found my body missing his. Even as we walked cautiously through the ancient tunnels, I had to stop myself from brushing his hand with mine and overcome the urge to kiss his shapely mouth.

My thoughts were halted by Declan's barking, and suddenly we were upon them-dragonlings. They were tough creatures with rotten breath and heat radiating off of their scales. They must have been the cause of the smell and melted ice. We encountered and killed several as we continued through the caves, keeping pace while we clearly began to move uphill. Alistair suspected we were moving up and through the Frostback Mountains themselves. Finally, fresh air blew on us and we stepped into a massive cavern within the mountainside. Stopping short, a small group of men came towards us, and their leader offered us a deal.

Brother Kolgrim was a brutal looking man. His features were sharp and bold and dark. His entire body was bulked with muscle and suggested he was born and bred for battle; his fellow warriors appeared the same, though he was the most intimidating. I concluded that our best option right now would to swear our "allegiance" to cult. His request and our initiation required us to defile the Ashes. I made a promise to do so, even though I had not such intention. This false partnership would get us safely to the Temple. My options were few at the time; we had been walking and fighting incredibly strong enemies, and this would enable us to recover our strength before our deception was undone. I had to persuade Alistair to trust me, since he could not see I was bluffing. Thankfully, that meant that Kolgrim did not realize it either. As he guided us to the temple, I thanked Andraste for our safety because above us we saw that there was an enormous High Dragon. Kolgrim reasoned with the beast-apparently the cult venerated the creature. Utterly deluded, they claimed that this dragon was Andraste herself incarnate. The reality behind their superhuman strength was disturbing: they drank the blood of this dragon. Once past the dragon, we cautiously entered the Temple, leaving Kolgrim and his men outside.

Shortly within, a ghostly warrior wearing ancient armour stopped us. He claimed that he was pledged to Andraste, and oversaw the protection of the Temple and her Ashes until such a time his duty would be fulfilled. This was the Guardian who had denied Kolgrim and the cultists access to the Ashes. In all our travels, I still had never become convinced about the Maker's existence, but in this temple, my belief in Andraste was reaffirmed. I sent up a prayer to Andraste that my falsehoods to the cult would not deny us entry as well, and that she protect us in her Temple. Thankfully, the Guardian seemed to have no idea of what had transpired between us and Kolgrim, and simply informed us that we were to pass a series of tests to prove our worthiness to Andraste. I exhaled with relief.  
Before allowing us to begin the tests that he called "The Gauntlet", he stopped us to ask a series of questions.

"Before you go," he said, "there is something I must ask. I see that the path that led you here was not easy. There is suffering in your past-ar-your suffering, and the suffering of others."

All of this was true, but what was his point? Did he want to know if I was angry? If I blamed Andraste, or the Maker? He continued.

"By the time you reached Shianni, she was broken, brutalized. You were too late. Tell me, pilgrim, did you fail Shianni?"

I had not expected this question, and was slightly taken aback. My nightmares had not been plagued with broken memories from the Alienage for several weeks now, but in an instant my mind flooded with images from that day. I remembered finding my cousin Shianni; she was as he said. She was bruised and her spirit broken. Her body had been violated by our captors, and the memory made my heart pound and my blood boil, just as it had then. But as much as I could have blamed myself or anyone else, I knew that it was not my fault. Nor was it Shianni's-the only failure was justice. I made our own justice by ending the life of the true perpetrator: Vaughan.

I held my head high, aware of the quizzical eyes of my companions. None of them knew who Shianni was, none of them knew the true circumstances of my joining the Grey Wardens.

"No," I said firmly, "Vaughan is the villain, not me."

The Guardian nodded and accepted the answer.

"Then you do not dwell on past mistakes-neither yours, nor someone else's". I appeared to have passed the test. He moved on to question the others.

Morrigan refused to entertain his question in the slightest, cutting him off before he could even finish his sentence. He did not press her and moved on.

When he spoke to Alistair, it was more of a statement than a question. He asked if he did not regret being unable to save Duncan.

"You wonder, don't you," he said in an even tone, "if you should have died and not him?"

It was heartbreaking to see my friend acknowledge the truth of this question, to hear him admit the Guardian was revealing his actual thoughts.

"I-yes," Alistair muttered, "If Duncan had been saved and not me, everything would be better. If I'd just had the chance...maybe."

He did not continue and the Guardian accepted his answer. I looked at Alistair sympathetically and squeezed his hand. He gave me a weak smile.

"Duncan wished for you to survive-to carry on a legacy. He trusted you, and would be proud of you, I know it," I said softly. "Everything else is in the past, and we must make the best of what we have, Ali."

"You-you are right, Bridg, I...thank you."

We refocused as the guardian turned to our last companion.

"And, the Antivan Elf."

"Is it my turn now? Hurrah, I am so excited." Zevran sounded anything but.

"Many have died at your hand. But, is there any you regret more, than a woman by the name of-"

Zevran cut him off.

"How do you know about that?" He sounded defensive, almost spooked, and eyed our interrogator warily.

The Guardian simply responded that such knowledge was allowed to him, matter-of-factly, before returning to his question.

"Do you regret-"

Zevran was angry now. "Yes," he said curtly. "The answer is yes, if that's what you wish to know. I do. Now move on ," he ordered.

No names had been said, but I guessed in my mind. I remembered his story. The story about his comrades, Taliesen and Rinna. The story of manipulation and lies leading to her to murder; the painful toll for his hubris, and reminder that he was barely better than a slave to his masters. He did regret it. I knew, under his tough skin, his easy going manner and quick wit that there was room for remorse and doubt. There was softness, and the ability for love to penetrate his heart. But what I could not determine from his tone was if this bothered him or not. Was he angry for being prodded about a tender subject, or angry because he allowed himself, voluntarily or not, to feel regret? I wished to comfort him, but I knew it was best to leave him alone.

Done with questions, we were allowed past.

Our first test was a series of riddles, and we answered them successfully. We continued on to the next chamber. We did not get very far when we were stopped by another spectral figure. I was leading the way, and gasped when I saw who it was: Shianni. Did this mean she was dead? Was this her spirit, or just her form conjured here by whatever magics were kept in this place? Alistair, Zevran and Morrigan looked at me expectantly, unaware of whom this strange elf was. We did not look similar enough to give it away entirely that we were related.

"Hey."

That was all she said. Shianni never exactly minced words.

"Shianni?" I asked, cautiously. Zevran's eyes narrowed when he heard me, perhaps he remembered what the Guardian had asked me about her?

"Who else?" she countered my question. I was hoping for some enlightenment, to know that the real Shianni was alive and well.

She continued, "It's good to see you, I suppose. Life out there has been good to you, hasn't it?"

I stifled a snort, ready for whatever short sighted commentary she was about to lay on me.

"You're respected, Bridget, even among humans. Do you remember us, where you come from, and what some of us still face every day?"

I determined that this was not her ghost. And after that, I had several things run through my head, from simply answering her question without explanation to asking her if she was trying to guilt me-as if she had any idea what I was going through, how I could never forget, but how I also couldn't look back. What good would that do me?

But I did remember. And it would be false to say that I didn't think often of how I wanted to go home, how I missed my family, my friends, and that I was determined to fix the situation in Denerim. I remembered how weeks ago, I was distraught when I was unable to enter the Alienage while we were searching for Brother Genitivi.

But showing weakness in front of Shianni would be fruitless.

"Shianni...I could never forget my family, or the Alienage. I wish I had to power to free you all-maybe someday I can."

"Really?" Shianni seemed both pleased and mildly surprised. "Thank you, cousin, but that will take time, more time than you can spare." She cast her eyes down and her tone changed, suddenly, she was less judgmental and she softened her voice.

"What happened...it wasn't really your fault." She looked at me again, with tears pricking her eyes. "You were caught in the situation, just like the rest of us."

I wanted to reach out and hug her, to thank her for understanding, and not judging me. I wanted to have just a moment where I was not a Grey Warden, but I was Bridget Tabris from the Denerim Alienage. But her form here was not corporeal and we both cleared our throats.

"You have a great task to complete," she continued. "I want you to take this, I think you should have it. Seeing you now gives me hope, for all of us." She smiled and before I could reach out to her again or thank her, her form faded away and I was left with an amulet in my hand; it was weightless but warm and there was a faint glow about the pendant. I put it on and suddenly we could see an exit from this chamber.

We had passed the test.

We continued with the trials, fighting eerie spectral versions of ourselves and an odd chamber with a magical path we puzzled our way across. Crossing it, we exited the room and found ourselves in a final chamber, blockaded by a wall of intense stayed alight magically, and there was a stone with a cryptic message in front of it.

I read the message on it and laughed.

"We have to remove all our armour."

"Do we really?" Alistair whined. I could appreciate his hesitation, especially with the fire, but what could we do? We removed our armour down to our small clothes. Morrigan, unsurprisingly was done the fastest; she could give Zevran a run for his money considering how quickly he could be coerced out of his clothing. She goaded Alistair while he tried to remove his own as quickly and discreetly as possible. I had learned long ago that Morrigan's sense of modesty was as refined as the hut she grew up in, and she often enjoyed the discomfort of others should they complain. Standing tall, she cocked her hip seductively and gripped her ample curves with both hands. She smiled deviously.

"Really, Alistair," she said, "you, a Grey Warden and King-to-be, shy of a little skin? Mayhaps you suffer some terrible deformity under all of your heavy armour? Or do the Wardens require you to hide yourself like a Chantry Mother, pristine and pure for the Maker?" she laughed and Alistair tried to ignore her, concealing rage but still turning slightly pink in the cheeks. He really was adorable when he was riled up.

"Or, perhaps...yes, 'twould be far more likely, I think, if it was being in the presence of these fair damsels, soft bosoms and bottoms on display that cause you to blush? My, my, Alistair, 'tis just a bit of skin, surely you have seen a naked wom-"

Alistair was now very red and called for her to stop, causing her to laugh riotously. I couldn't help but stifle a giggle myself, both at his discomfort and Morrigan's relentless teasing. At this point, however, Zevran chimed in with his own tsk tsk tsk and I realised it was my turn.

" _Amore_ ," he said, sidling up to me and examining me from top to bottom. I could tell by his eyes he was not actually being lascivious, but the familiar butterflies stirred all the same.

"Truly, I do not think this test was put before us for the Urn, but to see if I can resist myself taking you right here and now...such a pity there would be onlookers-unless of course, that excites you, hmm?"

I had to stop myself from laughing at his absurd suggestion while he waggled his eyebrows maniacally. Not to be outdone, however, I stepped back towards Morrigan and wound my arm around her waist, pulling her to me.

"I don't know, Zevran, seeing Morrigan like this has done some strange things to me, I may prefer her company to yours now." Zevran's eyes widened with surprise and an unmistakable hint of lust that almost made me drop the act entirely.

Thankfully, Morrigan revelled in the joke, and especially in Alistair's discomfort. His brow was furrowed and he stood by the flames with his arms crossed, clearly unamused.  
Slightly embarrassed, I removed myself from Morrigan's side and said that we should continue with our test; we shouldn't waste time. Alistair looked beyond relieved and I patted him on the shoulder as apology.

My heart started to pound as I looked at the flames. My mind screamed at me that I would get burned, that this was madness. But I choked the fear down and told myself that it was magic, that we were not here to disrupt the Urn, and that the Guardian believed in us.

 _Andraste, I trust in you to keep us safe, to guide us. I beseech you to allow me past these flames_ I prayed, quieting my mind. Closing my eyes, I stepped towards the heat and kept walking until suddenly, it was behind me. I opened my eyes and saw that I was on the other side. I had passed through unharmed, without even a singe. Morrigan followed, completely unperturbed, and the men followed her with some hesitation. The flames disappeared, and the Guardian returned to congratulate us for passing all the tests, leaving us to the Urn.

We spent a few moments regearing ourselves, and then headed towards the Urn.

* * *

A ceiling of blue-grey clouds loomed ahead and was slowly rumbling towards us. We would not be able to escape it; it stretched across the whole sky and the air began to cool rapidly.

"Shall we make camp early?" I asked my companions. There was only another hour or two of daylight left, and setting camp up in the pouring rain would be difficult.

We worked swiftly to set up our tents, and positioned Bodahn's caravan in the way of the wind to break it some. Thunder was beginning to rumble, louder with each moment that went by. We divided enchanted runestones amongst ourselves that would radiate heat to keep the chill off in our tents. The sky transformed to an inky black, and lightning flashed. Shortly after camp was made, the first drops began to fall, heavy and large. We quickly passed around dried meat, cheese, and bread before settling in for the night. Within moments, the rain fell in sheets, freezing cold and relentless. The tents shook but the strong enchanted fabric held fast, and we were warm and dry inside.

I peered outside the tent to observe a brief moment. I loved the savage beauty of a thunderstorm. Lightning rent the clouds and splashed the celestial canvas in shades of blue, purple, pink and grey. The saturated air was heavy with the smell of damp earth and cold. Mist rose from the warmer ground and the entire scene was beautiful and eerie. Satisfied, I sealed the canvas flap and returned to the warm glow inside my tent, shivering off the dampness.

Unlike the others in the camp, Zevran and I had decided to combine our two tents into one larger one to wait out the rain, since we would not be roaming the camp freely to seek each other's company. Wynne had raised an eyebrow and Morrigan snorted at the idea, but the rest hadn't seemed to notice in the bustle of activity to avoid getting caught in the rain.

Haven was behind us. We had secured a pinch of the Ashes, and bested Brother Kolgrim upon our exit. The entire cult was no more. What was even more terrifying, however, was the enormous dragon we summoned- their "reincarnation of Andraste". It was accidental, really. We were inspecting a giant gong on the side of the path, and Alistair, curious, hit it. A scream rent the sky and we could feel the vibrations in the air as the beast flapped towards us, drawing us in with a tornado of gusts. We very nearly died, I will admit. But the dragon was now dead, an impressive carcass on the side of a forgotten mountain. Brother Genitivi went back to Denerim with news of the Ashes, and we promised to meet him next time we came to the city.

Now, I estimated that we were about a day outside of Redcliffe, perhaps a bit more due to the storm; who knew how long it would last. I sat in the double sized tent, ensuring the Ashes were safe and hidden in a lockbox among my pack. This was the first time we had built our tents as one, and I had to admit, now that it was done, I wasn't sure if it was the best idea. I was nervous and chastised myself for being foolish and rash-a leader should always have her own quarters, what was I thinking? But it was too late, and the torrent outside denied other options.

I took a moment to peek over at Zevran. My hesitations melted in an instant. He sat in a corner, wrapped in a fur to keep off the damp, and he was, to my astonishment, reading a tome by the light of a glowstone. I had never seen him reading before and honestly didn't take him for the type. But he was very engrossed in the book, and I felt it would be rude to interrupt, so I sat amongst my things, and tried to comb my hair with my fingers.

" _Amore_."

I looked over to where he sat. He was holding his book closed with his thumb keeping his page, holding out a comb to me with his other hand. I smiled sheepishly and came forward to take the comb, sitting cross legged across from him. My hair had grown over the months and I kept it up in plaits or knots to prevent it being in the way, but I could not bare to cut it. Now it came down to my breasts and shone a dull, pale gold in the light of the glowstone. my hair was thick, fine and waveless naturally, but now it was knotted and coarse from the weather and my braids. I began to comb out the knots, feeling actual relief from my tresses returning to normal. I was surprised how something so simple, so small, could actually make a difference in how I felt, and how relaxed I became.

"What are you reading?" I asked Zevran, who alternated his gaze between his pages and my hair.

"It is one of the good Brother Genitivi's works, _In Pursuit of Knowledge_." He noticed my curious look. "Perhaps you are surprised I would travel with something such as this? I would agree with you, this thing is very heavy and bulky. But when I first arrived here, these things were sold in great quantity in Denerim, and I spent some coin on it. His entries on Antiva are indeed fascinating." He smiled and set the book down.

"I didn't take you for much of a reader, I suppose," I admitted.

"And why not? Not being able to read could be a much fatal fault for a Crow; we had a large library and were encouraged to spend time reading, learning whatever we could that might give us an edge. I admit, I do not read as widely as others, but I do quite enjoy a good book now and again, when the content is interesting enough. The mind is a blade, just like any other, and your wit must be sharpened from time to time, or it will fall into disrepair."

I enjoyed this aspect of him. He was calm, happy even.

"Not everyone in the Alienage can read," I told him, "my father is a well-travelled, respected elf though, and we are friends with our _Hahren_ -our teacher. They taught me how to read, as well as my cousins, Soris and Shianni. I think that… once this is all over, when I can return to Denerim, I will make sure that make sure that everyone can read, and that we have even a small library. If...if I ever make it back."

Zevran chuckled.

"My dear, not days ago you took out an entire blood-drinking cult and a high dragon-I think by now the Blight will only be a small challenge." He leaned towards me.  
"Tell me, though, you said your cousins? This woman, Shianni from the temple that we saw, this is the cousin you speak of?"

"Yes. I left her and Soris behind in Denerim. She is younger than me, and impulsive, but it was my job to protect her and it still is-to protect my family and my home, no matter how far away I am. The real reason I became a Warden is…." I stopped short, not sure I could find it within me to tell the entire truth. "A group of men terrorized our Alienage, and tried to take several of us away-I had to kill Vaughan Kendells in order for us to escape."

Zevran's eyes widened, and I assumed he realized the gravity of an elf killing a human, even if he wasn't aware that Vaughan was an Arl's son. Or maybe he did know who he was, but didn't say. It looked like he had questions, but to his credit, he did not pry.

"This is why I told the Guardian that I didn't fail Shianni-even if I ended up being taken away, I did what I had to do. And I'm still doing my duty. I will end this blight, and I will do whatever is in my power to help my people. I know that Alistair will be a good King, and that he won't turn a blind eye if I ask for his help. We can begin to make a change, I just know it."

Zevran smiled at me.

"You are very admirable, Bridget, and if anyone can do these things, it will be you. It will not be easy though, and you will have enemies who try to stop you every step of your way."

"Of course, which is why it is so handy to have an ex-assassin who owes me his life so neatly in my pocket at all times." I winked at him and and he laughed loudly.

"My, but aren't you the crafty one," he said, and leaned into me for a soft kiss. His lips were soft, warm, and firm against my own and I stopped combing to pull his face towards me for another.

"You know," I said, "I know it is still early in the evening, but this storm doesn't seem like it's going to let up anytime soon. And it's so very loud, I don't think anyone in the camp can hear anything outside of their tent." I shifted positions and knelt back on my calves. "Perhaps we can think of other options to pass the time, in case you get bored of reading." I raised an eyebrow at him, challenging with a smirk.

He grabbed my waist and smiled back.

"I like the way you think," he said, "tonight, I think I will show you what back in Antiva we like to refer to as 'Ferelden Style'".


End file.
